Faces
by nechromatize
Summary: After the first turbulent dinner at 12 Grimmauld Place, Molly corners Remus over Sirius and concerns she can't let go. SB/RL undertones. A missing scene from OotP.


**Faces**

  
Author: Xaijelic  
Email: xaijelic@4-0-0-4.net  
Disclaimer: JKR owns them all. We do not. We live with it.  
Rating: G.   
Summary: After the first turbulent dinner at 12 Grimmauld Place, Molly corners Remus over Sirius and concerns she can't let go. SB/RL undertones. A missing scene from OotP.  
Archive: Please don't.

  
This was written for **Fill In The Blanks** (fillintheblanks.ubiquitously.net), a SB/RL centric OotP fic challenge to fill in some of the missing scenes, before, during and after OotP. Go, join, submit. =) 

The house was quiet, but it was the tense sort of quiet which came from many people collectively holding their breath, and so unable to make a sound. Even the portraits seemed to be muted, although there were none in this room. Molly had all but slave driven the children out of the kitchen after the evening's spontaneous meeting and the others had disbanded in drifting waves. Sirius had made his escape already, almost straight after the children and up the stairs towards Buckbeak's room with hard, trudging steps. Remus decided it was preferable to leave him alone, and in truth he hadn't wanted to go after the other man in one of his moods, not again and not so soon. Sometimes it was better to let the plate smash than attempt to catch it. 

The room he'd found was yet to be touched by the main cleaning movement, but when they'd made a preliminary search of the house upon arrival this particular study had been locked - Sirius said only that it used to be his father's - but as the man had died long before his wife it bore little evidence of use. Being locked, however, had kept it from the worst of the ravages of dereliction. As far as Remus could tell, it was free of lurking dangers and he'd adopted it as a retreat. The desk and the bookshelves were dark wood and too heavy, engraved with too many serpents but the general atmosphere was more productive to his thoughts than the rest of the house, and it had a fire of its own.

Neither the glass nor its contents were his normal habit, but they were there and he only had two inches from the base filled with the clear amber liquid strong enough to breathe fire if one wanted to swallow a lit match. He did not. But the fire in the hearth was lit with a spell and he'd made use of one of the arm chairs facing it, stiff and old but smooth leather in a deep emerald green that faced the glowing flames in a dark room. 

The warmth was just starting to turn his thoughts to a distant idea of thinking, leaning towards dozing when light cut across his vision and Remus broke his gaze with the mesmerising flickering to look towards the door. Candles lit the corridor outside, and they framed the short figure peering her head around the solid oak searchingly.

"Molly?" 

"Remus!" Surprise and vague 'I've been sticking my head into god knows how many rooms' relief crossed the older woman's round face as she pushed the door open properly, pausing just on the threshold. "Have you got a moment?" When he nodded, she smiled briefly and slid inside, closing the door behind her. "I wanted a word. You know, about this evening." 

With a strange sinking sensation that he didn't show, Remus set the untouched glass down on the arm of his chair, fingers still loosely steepled around it. "Of course." Although it sounded a lot like 'If you'd like' and there was a private emphasis on the 'you' that echoed in his mind only. Molly didn't need another invite though, and as she moved quickly towards the fireside her usually bustling step was agitated, the same as her expression as she dropped down into another armchair that stood in a crescent with his. Whatever weight gnawing at her was close to the surface already; lips pursed with the effort to actually form a sentence before she let the words escape. Pleasantries looked as if they'd no place in whatever it was she wanted to say to him, and after a pause none materialised. 

"Remus, you know Sirius better than any of us-" The werewolf felt the sinking weight plummet and forced his attention to remain impassive. "And I know he's not a bad person, not that he'd consciously ever put Harry in danger but I can't help being worried, especially about tonight. Maybe Harry does deserve to know some things, but did you _see_"

"I was watching very closely, Molly." Remus suddenly felt a lot more tired than he had a few moments ago, when sleep had been a real possibility. Perversely, he almost wished that Molly had chosen to take her concerns straight to Sirius but then, he also knew the less rows the better, and it was ironic his word seemed to count for so much more inside these walls when most wouldn't tell him the time of day. Now it was only organising his thoughts, trying to present the opinions in a way that would stop the maternal instinct from fretting Ron's mother to the quick over the boy she had practically adopted. It would be easier if this conversation wasn't quite as close to his own quick. Across the dully lit room, Molly was waiting for him to continue and his fingertips tapped the cool glass for a moment. 

"He knows who Harry is, and he knows who Harry is not. _However_," Remus put in pointedly as Molly opened her mouth to speak. "There is no denying that Harry is, appearance aside, very much like his father. Sirius is not the only one to see that. I will say though, that it wasn't what James _looked_ like that made he and Sirius such good friends." Remus almost looked marble for a moment, an expression subtly different from the usual ghost of loss at the mention of the Potters. "It was the way they fuelled each other; the way they bounced ideas back and forth until they had a plan. It was the way they complimented each other that did that. Sirius _does_ know who Harry is," the werewolf's expression and voice were firm. "However, there is enough of James in Harry to tug at that old sense of dynamic between Potter and Black and if I'm not mistaken, it's not entirely one-sided either." 

Although her lips were still parted, Molly seemed to have put her first comment on hold, brows drawn into a suddenly alert frown. It was the same kind of maternal, suspicious sense she embodied whenever Fred and George started to whisper in corners. "But what do you mean by that? Harry doesn't think he's his father, Remus. They've I mean, they never even met." She looked dismayed at having to say what she was thinking, but the point remained. 

For his part Remus didn't sigh, but there was a quiet moment of stillness that could have been one had he allowed it. "No, he hasn't. You're quite right again, but you're missing my point." Remus' smile was not sympathetic but patient. "You heard what Harry said, as well as I did, when you accused Sirius of mistaking his Godson for his best friend. 'What's wrong with that?' I believe. I also believe he meant it, in some ways." The slow way the werewolf's fingertips traced his glass seemed the only genuinely descriptive motion now, against the expression of consideration they'd all come to associate with Remus but not with anything _about_ Remus. "While there is enough of James in Harry for Sirius to be drawn to it, there is also enough of James in Harry for Harry to be drawn to the way Sirius acts, or reacts, rather." A new ghost, this time a smile - wary and distant - touched the placid expression. "When you have a Potter and a Black, you will always have trouble, Molly. It's in their blood." He didn't have to look up to know his words were being taken in. Molly Weasley was a housewife but she was a mother too and she was not stupid. Only, perhaps, too quick to jump to the defence of her brood in deference to all else; he would probably be hung, drawn and quartered for suggesting any similarity between the two antagonists, though.

"But trouble is _exactly_ what we can't afford! Not for either of them. Harry is like one of mine and I know I don't see eye to eye with Sirius but! If he gets caught--"

"Precisely." Quiet and polite, it cut neatly through words Remus already knew; had already thought. "However, as I remember, no-one could ever stop James and Sirius. Other than Lily sometimes, of course." He didn't add how often those respites had been temporary. As soon as Lily was gone Sirius would be back and James never resisted long before they were back to the plan. "I'm sure you've noticed Harry, just like James, is brave beyond his years. Harry is also as loyal as James was to his friends and family. That does include Sirius, now." The finalistic note made Molly bristle visibly, a faint flush forming under her thick hair and across round cheeks at the quiet reprimand; she was highly unused to being told off by someone a good few years younger than she was, retort silenced by an underlying spark of guilt. Sirius and Remus so often worked on such entirely different levels that sometimes it was too easy to overlook the depth of their friendship. The idea Remus, of all people, didn't think kindly of her earlier remarks was unsettling. But really, she would have apologised if Sirius hadn't been _**so**_

Without the appearance of noticing, the werewolf continued on uninterrupted. "Sirius has always needed people, Molly. To care about and to get protective and hot tempered about, yes. But a partner in crime, someone to share things with was always essential and he hasn't had the time to adjust to what we got over a long time ago; isolation is a vacuum with many of edges," to save himself a wince, Remus shifted in his chair, clear amber liquid rippling faintly. "I may have grown-up too much to be an immediate substitute for what Sirius is trying to remember, but it _is_ a vacuum. He'll stabilise." 

Molly had both hands together now, clasped to deny the frustration and agitation her small frame wasn't big enough to house. "I understand. No, maybe I don't understand at all. I was never a part of any of this but what do we **do** in the meantime?" If she was honest, that's what she'd come to ask. It seemed every time she tried to talk to Sirius they did absolutely nothing but lock horns, and the mother in her couldn't do nothing. Her expression said she was sorry she was walking over the personal things that the werewolf had just told her, or had to brush them aside, but they weren't helping with an answer. Harry was her main concern, and always would be. It was understood. Not liked, but understood. In comparison to the fidgeting woman, Remus could have been stone. 

"Do?" It wasn't hard to see what she meant - more ground rules or precautions like the ones Dumbledore had already set in place, that were already chafing tight enough to cause friction burn in man and boy. He shook his head, light grey blended into light brown in the bad light. "If I've known all three of them long enough to know anything at all, it's that they cannot and never will be bullied or pressured into being anything other than what they are. Although Sirius is not 15, nor was he when everything changed. I hope - I _trust_ - that his concern for Harry and some measure of common sense will stop him from doing anything rash." Molly couldn't stop a small, instinctual snort and Remus shot her a hard glance. "He's frustrated and unhappy, Molly. You would be as well, in his position. But he is not mad or inherently stupid." 

The living room was very still as the two locked gazes for only a few seconds, until she looked away with a sigh and stood up, smoothing out her robes out of habit.

"I hope you're right, Remus. You know I don't want to see anything happen to Harry, or _either_ of them. And if anyone's having his hide" 

From his seat Remus nodded, something faintly amused and grave lighting pale eyes. "I know. If it's not, I'll just have to try and convince Sirius I can still charm dungbombs to chase someone at 600 yards. To give him something to do."

Molly started to smile and then caught herself, glaring with a sudden inability to make it convincing. "Only if you **both** clear them up. There's _quite_ enough cleaning to do already, although for Heaven's sake," and her grimace was genuine, "please don't mention anything about self-homing dungbombs to those two!" 

Remus laughed quietly; spare hand lifting lightly in surrender before falling back to the arm rest. "Not a word. I promise." 

Mrs Weasley nodded, satisfied with his word at least. "Night then. I better go and check on the boys. They'll be talking no matter what I told them."

"Goodnight, Molly." 

The door clicked softly as she left the same way she'd come, and once again he was left alone with just the fire, the untouched glass and the musty smell of old dust and expensive, antique furniture. It was a strong scent after 10 years, strong enough so that the floorboard creak behind him was the first clue he had that he wasn't alone at all. Remus didn't jump with the unpleasant jolt of surprise. Kreacher wasn't nearly heavy enough to make that sort of sound and the step was familiar. Uneasily and perhaps, right now, unluckily familiar. 

"Nice to know you don't think I'm raving yet." 

Regular meals hadn't done much yet to put enough flesh back on bone, but tall, hair still long, he was a conspicuous shadow. Remus didn't bother to ask where he'd come from or how; only the house elf knew the building better. There was no sense in ignoring him either, taking a full inhale and exhale and resettling again on the stiff cushion. "If you're going to be offended it might be better to say so, rather than getting sarcastic, Sirius. It doesn't help anyone." 

One tense moment of silence went past before Sirius pushed himself out of the shadows and into the chair that Molly had just left with no regard for the expensive, age-delicate leather, expression a turbulent mix that looked decidedly unhealthy as the other man fought to repress it. "I'm not getting sarcastic. I want to know what the hell that was all about. The two of you sound like I'm going round the twist, imagining ghosts because I'm so bloody-- _needy_." Sirius' face contorted in disgust, one hand gesturing with a move that would probably have knocked something over if there was anything there. "I'm not that pathetic, Remus." There was more than a hint of growl and a subtle, subtle shard of hurt in the harshly formed words. 

Remus' fingers were still on the glass, gaze unwaveringly firm on Sirius now he knew he was there and the fire had him illuminated. "I never once said you were. If you've been standing there the entire time, you know that." 

Sirius opened his mouth and then snapped it closed again in an inherently canine way. 

_You were thinking it._

_I was not._

_Well, I wasn't._

_Weren't you? _

Sirius fidgeted. He had too much energy, always had had far too much energy to sit still and just **brood**. Now was no exception to that rule even after all the years, and he was back on his feet abruptly as if he couldn't stand the armchair's confines any longer, or whatever the hell it symbolised. 

"I'm not going to risk Harry. You know that." 

The heated resolution almost made the werewolf smile. "I do know that." 

"Don't you just know everything?" 

"That was bitter."

"Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"You know that too."

"Mm." 

"You did grow up." 

Remus raised a faded brow and paused the volley, let the weight hang because it was suddenly not the flippant remark it appeared to be; not to his ears. "Yes." 

Sirius snorted and didn't expand. Emphatic rants and blunt honesty aside, he wasn't a talker when it came to whatever the hell he was feeling (just when it came to everything else, but 12 years without anyone to hear even if he bothered to speak had eroded that trait as much as could be done). The colour under his eyes was still too dark, too bruised to give him the impression of a man quite in his right mind, but Sirius' expression was grave enough to draw the lines sharp against the bone. 

"Molly needs to learn when to stop smothering him, Remus. I just remember what it's like at that age and it's not doing him any favours. Don't say I never grew up." 

Remus finally raised the glass he was holding, now slightly too warm, to take a sip of the strong liquid. "I didn't say that." 

"You said everything _but_ that, though." Whatever dam the taller man had been piecing together in front of his thoughts did a card tower fall. "Answering questions is one thing. That was like having your bloody skull cracked open for the enemy to ogle at!"

"Molly is not the _enemy_, Sirius." The sudden sharpness to his voice made the werewolf close his mouth, but now their gazes were locked and staring at Sirius was nothing like staring at anyone else. There were no shields here, not anymore. To shut Sirius out would mean closing off the last true bond he had to the other people in his life. He'd been there already, and decided it was worth this unstable, uncertain faith on a shaky, unsure dynamic in order to escape that fate a second time. 

"I don't need anyone _else_ digging around in my head while I'm still trying to get it straight." The stare didn't waver, but Sirius sounded as if he'd temporarily swapped his vocal cords to his other form. Standing at his full height, it would be menacing to anyone else. Anyone else who was not Remus. 

"There isn't an answer." The admission was quiet not soft, tired but honest. It might not answer what had just been said, but it was the only answer he had for everything no-one could say. They could both run in circles for hours, could row with Molly until Buckbeak crashed through the roof to get away from the noise but it would not _solve_ anything. Nothing could solve anything, as far as he could figure. Only waiting. It would make bitter sense that waiting was the hardest thing to do now. In front of him Sirius slouched, a fold under the indignant hurt and the anger and the frustration. It wasn't a release, it was a retreat and regroup and Sirius' body was too lean as he closed the few steps between them, long limbs missing the bulk they should have as he dropped down to the floor by Remus' chair - Sirius's chair, really. Facing away, he leant back against the warmth of his friend's legs and stared at the same fire which burned on, indifferently. At least it didn't shout or scream.   



End file.
